Sheriff McMahon
by Jo5
Summary: Shane McMahon is the sheriff of a wild west town under threat from a mysterious outlaw
1. Default Chapter

Sheriff McMahon 

  
  


The sheriff looked down at the mountain of paperwork on his desk. Arrest reports court orders and wanted posters piled up on all sides. He picked one up, almost randomly- another madman on the loose, apparently.

Shane sighed. As he had grown up, amongst the cowboys and outlaws, his only wish had been to follow in his father's footsteps and become Sheriff of Deadwood. He'd had visions of battling lone gunmen in the street, and protecting the innocent from dangerous cowboys. Sitting behind a desk, going blind from ploughing through report after report had not been part of this fantasy.

Deadwood had calmed down since his father's day. Robert McMahon had been one of the most feared law keepers- after clearing Deadwood of all the scum of the west, the outlaws and criminals had kept their distance. The fear that had kept them away and been passed down to Shane, and he was now just as feared as his father had been before him. Now Deadwood was a haven for bounty hunters and regulators, who created just enough trouble with their rivalries to stop Shane getting bored enough o give up the job entirely.

Two such bounty hunters were currently sleeping off their hangovers in the cells. Shane thought back to the night before with a grin that was almost a grimace. It was just his luck that the two best hunters in the west had decided to ride into Deadwood the same day – and call in to the same saloon. If he didn't know any better, Shane would swear they did it on purpose.

"And naturally the two biggest ego's in town had to prove who was the best," Shane said to the now stirring, rather dishevelled looking forms, laid out in their separate cells. The sheriff unlocked the first door, and roughly shook the body awake. The hunter looked up at the sheriff with his watery, bloodshot eyes, and groaned as he felt his headache kicking in.

"Steve I'm getting a little tired of throwing your ass in jail," Shane said, wearily.

"Then why keep doing it? Why not just leave me alone?" replied the hunter, grumpily. Steve Austin was one of the most feared and best bounty hunters in the land; he was famous throughout the country for his ability to bring in the wildest outlaws. He was equally famous for his ability to get drunk, and start a fight wherever he went.

"Well, because it's my job." Shane replied. "And every time you and Johnson bump in to each other you cause another riot. Do you have any idea how much damage you too caused last night?"

Austin grinned and rubbed a hand over his bald head.

"Do you even remember how this ridiculous rivalry of yours started in the first place?" Shane continued.

"Sure…we wanted to see who was the best, he couldn't stand it when I won."

"No…if I remember correctly, you two got into a drunken brawl, which only ended with me throwing not only the two of you, but also half of the damn town in jail!"

"Exactly," replied Austin, smartly. "We never get to finish the damn fight. You always break up the party before it gets settled."

"Yes, well, that's because I know your method of 'settling'." Shane said, with a wry grin.

A loud groan emitted from the other cell.

"Let me the hell out of here," rumbled a deep voice.

Shane left Austin to recover from his headache, and walked to the other cell.

"McMahon, let me out of this damn cell. I don't deserve this, it was that idiot who started the fight – I was just minding my own business…" came the voice from the dishevelled figure in the cell. His clothes, once fine, had taken on a distinctly crumpled look, and his hair was in varying states of disarray.

The Sheriff sighed, giving the man an unbelieving look. "Johnson, I was there, remember? I do not call hitting Austin over the head with a billiard cue, 'minding your own business',"

"So that's where that lump came from," grumbled Austin from the other cell, gingerly rubbing the back of his head.

"Well, sorry if I mistook that shiny head of yours for the ball," answered Austin's cell mate. Dwayne Johnson was perhaps the only man in the country who could match Austin's skill in tracking and hunting, and the rivalry between them grew with the comparisons. "You gonna let me out, now?" he continued.

"Ok, fine. I'm sick of hearing your whining." Shane unlocked the cell. "Go on, get the hell out of here. But stay away from The Fortuna, ok? There's a lot of people in there that you two pissed off last night, so you would do well to stay well clear." Shane warned.

The hunter stood up, and sauntered out of his cell, dusting off his expensive hat, before placing it on his head. "Sheriff, you have Dwayne Johnson's word on it."

"Yeah, for what it's worth," growled Austin. He had finally made it off his bunk, and was stood leaning against the bars of his cell.

"That goes for you too, Austin." Shane said, unlocking his cell. "Stay away from The Fortuna, and each other, you got me? I got bigger things to worry about than two goddamn hunters with ego problems."

"Like what?" asked Johnson, intrigued.

"Never you mind, you just go on about your business. I'll talk to you later." Shane said, motioning for Johnson to leave.

The hunter turned to leave the office; Shane was careful to block Austin's way, should he have a last ditch attempt to get even with the younger hunter.

"See ya around, Austin." Johnson said, grinning slyly at the older man.

"You better hope you don't, you sorry son of a bitch." Austin growled.

Johnson looked back at where Austin was standing in the doorway of his cell. Raising one eyebrow in a cocky come-on, he grinned and left the jailhouse.

Shane shook his head, and gave a silent prayer for a quiet night that was never going to happen. He moved out of the remaining hunter's way, and Austin half walked half staggered across the small office. 

"No no, not you Austin. You aren't leaving yet. Sit down, I want to talk to you."

Shane sat down behind his desk and rubbed his burning eyes. He really needed to get some sleep.

"What's troubling ya, son?" Austin asked, his surly demeanour of a few minutes past gone, and replaced by a look of concern for his younger friend.

Shane looked up at the hunter. "Steve, we've been friends a long time, so I'm going to try and appeal to your good sense, cause I know you got some in that thick headed skull of yours."

"Shane, if you are going to ask me to leave Johnson alone, don't even bother. That youngster needs an ass whooping, and I'm gonna be the one to give it to him."

"That may be so, and I'll agree with ya, he is an arrogant son of a bitch…in fact he reminds me of someone not a million miles away from here," Shane said, looking pointedly at Austin.

"But," Shane continued before the hunter could retort, "like I said, that is not my main concern at the moment."

"Is this about that guy? The guy who's been killing all those people down south?"

"How did you know about him?" asked Shane, surprised at how quickly Austin had guessed at what was bothering him.

"Word gets around. Guy rode in yesterday, said he heard that he'd killed four families up Tombstone way, women, children, even the goddamn dog in some cases."

Shane nodded. "I got a report in this morning. They're calling him The Undertaker, 'cause that's how he is – cold, brutal, treats everyone as though they were dead already. And it looks like he's heading our way."

"Do you want me to go after him, is that what this is about?" the hunter said, with a glimmer of excitement in his ice-cold blue eyes.

"No, no, that is exactly what I do not want you to do. I want you to let the law handle this one, Steve. I do not want you going after this guy…I dunno, I've got a bad feeling about him…"

"Aww, Shane, I'm touched that you worry about me, I really am." the hunter replied, with just a hint of sarcasm. "But don't you worry about me, I can look after myself."

"Steve, I am telling you not to go after this guy!" Shane said in exasperation. "I've looked at reports from all over the country, and this crazy bastard is headed right for us. I'm telling you this because you are well respected around here, and I don't want a goddamn stampede of bounty hunters and lynch mobs going out into the hills and getting themselves killed! Do you understand me?"

"Alright Shane, ok." Steve said, seeing how bothered the young sheriff was by this. "I'll make sure we let the law handle this one, and if anyone gets any ideas about going after him, I'll make sure they lose 'em real fast."

"Thank you, Steve, I appreciate it," Shane said, inwardly letting out a sign of relief. "Another thing, though – does Johnson know about this guy?" 

"I'd assume for now that he does. That little bastard thinks he knows everything."

"Then he might be thinking about going after him too. Can I ask you to keep an eye on him? I know he's the only hunter in the country who won't listen to a word you say, but can you try and keep him distracted here long enough for us to catch this guy? 'Cause when he hears about the $2000 reward that's on his head –"

"Two thousand dollars? Are you kidding me?" Austin asked.

"Steve…" the sheriff said warily, "There is more to life than just money, and besides, you promised…"

"Aw hell. Fine, "Austin replied, reluctantly, grumbling under his breath. "But I don't know what you want me to do about Johnson. First you tell me to stay away from him, now you want me to baby sit the little bastard, I don't get it!"

"All I'm saying…look, Johnson will do anything to prove that he is the best hunter in the country-"

"Not damn likely to happen," grumbled Austin.

"AND," continued Shane, ignoring the hunter's comment, "this Undertaker has laid out every bounty hunter that has come his way so far. I've known Dwayne almost as long as I've known you, and I know he'll be having thoughts of fame and fortune. And I don't want to see either of you getting killed, dammit!"

"So why not have this little chat with him? If he'll listen to anyone, he'll listen to you, Shane, not me."

"Yeah, right. He's just like you; he has never heeded me before, why would he start now? Look, all I'm asking is that for you to keep an eye on him, that's all. And if it looks like he's getting ready to go somewhere, you come and get me, alright?" Shane said wearily. He put his head in his hands, and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms."

"Shane, you are too young for this job. Look at you, you look like you've aged ten years too fast."

"Well, if not me, then who's gonna do it? You? It's my duty to look after these people, this town, Steve."

"Duty my ass. Your father grew old before his time, and you're going the same way, son."

"Yeah, whatever. Go on, get out of here, and please try to stay out of trouble?"

"Hey Steve Austin does what he wants, when he wants, ok" said the hunter, standing up, and walking towards the door.

"Well, doesn't 'Steve Austin' want a quiet night in for once?" asked Shane, hopefully.

Austin laughed, and walked out into the street.

"Aw, shit." Said Shane to his paperwork. He looked at the 'wanted' report on his desk for the umpteenth time that day. "I don't know…there is something funny about all this –" He thought back to what Austin had said about the Undertaker. "Women and children – why? What the hell makes a man want to do that?"

Shane shook his head, wishing he could shake his worries away. He'd been up half the night trying to convince the towns' people that they didn't really want to hang Austin and Johnson for inciting a riot. 

"Trouble just follows those guys around – and I always get stuck in the middle of it. Shit."

His eyes grew heavy as he attempted to read a memo from the county court. Suddenly he couldn't keep them open. "Just five minutes," he said, as he constructed a makeshift pillow out of various bits of paper on his desk. Ten minutes later he was snoring gently.

* * *

Shane awoke to find that night had fallen.

"Oh shit," He quickly straightened himself out, and stepped outside in to the night. 

The town was small enough; the main street ran north to south, with stores and barns lining up along it. Mostly, there were saloons and casinos; it wasn't what you would call a family place.

The night's revelries were in full swing, with the establishments booming with music and laughter, not to mention the mostly good-natured insults exchanged between the clientele as they discussed the latest happenings. Wishing passers by a good evening, and, occasionally, a warning of good behaviour, or else, Shane made his way down to The Fortuna, the local hangout of most of the bounty hunters, and therefore, one of the most disreputable saloons in Deadwood.

Shane pushed open the double doors and was immediately confronted by a mix of loud hurdy gurdy music, and a combination of alcohol and cigar odours. He smiled to himself. This is what being a sheriff was about, he thought. He looked around at the various activities – the scantily clad dancers on the small stage, the poker game in the corner – as he made his way to the bar, where the owner of the saloon was polishing glasses while simultaneously ignoring the cries for beer from the other end. He looked up and smiled a toothy grin as he saw Shane.

"Sheriff McMahon – have a beer on me."

"Manny, the only reason you offer me a beer when I come in here is because you know I'm on duty and I'll turn it down, you tight fisted son of a bitch."

Manny stopped smiling, and wondered who could have pissed off their usually good-natured Sheriff.

"Anyone in here who shouldn't be, Manny?"

"Well, if you're talking about Johnson, he's over there." Said the barkeeper, gesturing to the roulette wheel. Sure enough, when Shane looked around, he spotted the bounty hunter stood against the table, looking somewhat more refined than he had that morning. Several pretty girls surrounded him, but he was, as usual, ignoring them. Shane grinned, despite himself, and his annoyance. He turned back to Manny.

"You let him back in? After the damage him and Austin did last night? Look at your billiard table, it's in two pieces, for Christ's sake!" Shane pointed at the table, which had indeed been destroyed, the balls still lying where they had fallen.

"Yeah, they really went at it, didn't they?" agreed Manny, grinning.

"So why not have him kicked out, you got enough guys in here to do it." Shane asked.

"Well…he apologised to me."

"Wait a minute…Dwayne…apologised? He actually said sorry? Are you sure?"

"Well, he said he was sorry that he put Austin through my table…" Manny said, sheepishly.

"He did?" Shane asked, his eyes growing wide.

"Yeah." Manny continued. "And then-"

"Then I said, I was sorry I didn't kill the son of a bitch."

Shane spun round to find Johnson stood next to him, grinning from ear to ear.

"Dwayne did I not tell you to stay away from here tonight?" Shane said, seething. Son of a bitch, he thought…

"Oh, stay _away _from The Fortuna. I thought you said stay _in _The Fortuna. Sorry." Replied Johnson with a grin.

"Yeah, nice try, asshole." Said the Sheriff.

"Now now, Shane, I'm not going to cause any trouble. And I'm even willing to pay for the damage."

Manny's face lit up.

"And where are you going to get the money from? I know you, remember, you spend every dime as soon as you get it." Said Shane, already fearing his answer.

"As it happens, I have caught word that there is a guy out there with a two thousand dollar price tag on his head. And I'm going to get him."

Shane shook his head at the floor. Shit, he thought for the umpteenth time that day. I knew this would happen…

"Dwayne, come over here for a minute," Shane gestured to a table near the wall of the saloon, away from most of the noise and activity.

"Dwayne, I've known you a long time. And I know you want to be the best at what you do." Said Shane, slowly.

"You're damn right – wait, no, I am the best, and you better damn well know it, McMahon." Dwayne said, an angry look on his face.

"Look, I just don't want to see you get killed, that's all. I've heard about this guy…and I have a really bad feeling about him."

"Shane, if you're worried about going after this guy, then there is nothing to worry about. That's why you have guys like me-to go after guys like him." 

"And to cause a riot with guys like Austin?" Shane asked, smiling softly.

"Yeah, something like that…" the hunter replied with a grin of his own.

"Dwayne, I'm asking you, please. Let the law handle this one, ok? I need you…" Shane stopped, an idea forming in his mind.

"Need me to what?" Dwayne asked.

"I need you to stay here, and guard the town. The rest of these guys – they listen to you. I don't want a pack of trigger happy fools bounty hunters roaming the hills, looking for this guy." Shane smiled inwardly; this was going to work out better than he had hoped.

"And I also need you to keep an eye on Austin for me." Shane continued.

"What? Forget that shit, he can look after himself." Dwayne said.

"I know, I know." Said Shane, warming to his role. "But, I've known him even longer than I've known you, and I don't want to see him get killed either." He looked at Johnson, the glint in his eyes giving him away; Shane could tell that Johnson liked the idea of controlling the town while he was away.

"Well, it's a good job you keep breaking up our fights, cause one of these days, I am going to shoot that son of a bitch." Quick as a flash, showing his infamous lightning reflexes, Johnson snatched a tankard of beer from a passing waitress, and gulped half of it down in one swallow. Shane rolled his eyes. 

"Very good, Johnson. Well done," Shane said, sarcastically.

"Thank you. Ok, let me get this straight…I stay here and hold the fort, and make sure Austin stays too…so what do I get out of it?" he asked, slyly.

"What do you mean? Is the satisfaction of looking after the whole damn town not reward enough?" asked Shane hopefully.

"Are you kidding me? This is going to be pain in the ass, and nothing more. Not to mention the fact that I am losing out on two thousand dollars."

"How about half the reward money when we catch the guy. It'll be more than enough to pay for the damages-"

"Shane- do you actually think that I'm going to just hand over my hard earned cash for a billiard table that I put Steve Austin through? No way. And after all the money I've spent in here? Not a chance in hell. And if Manny isn't happy about it, well…there are two things he can do about it." Said Johnson, grinning. "Nothing at all, and like it."

"Dwayne…" began the Sheriff.

"However," the hunter said, cutting him off, "I accept your offer. I stay and look after the town, and Austin, and I get one thousand dollars. Deal?" 

"Deal," replied Shane with an inward sigh of relief. That should keep them both occupied long enough, he thought.

Johnson raised his glass to Shane, and had it halfway to his lips when it exploded to the sound of gunfire. Both the hunter and the Sheriff had their guns drawn before they even stood up. The saloon was dead silent; all activity had stopped.

A familiar laugh broke the thunderous silence. Shane turned towards the bar to see Austin, gun still smoking, grinning from ear to ear, chuckling loudly.

"Goddammit Steve! For Christ's sake!" screamed Shane in exasperation.

Still laughing Austin turned his back to them, waving Manny over to order a drink. Normal activity resumed.

Shane sat down heavily, heart still pounding as the adrenaline rush wore off slowly. He looked up at Johnson – but the hunter was already raging across the room, hurtling furniture and people aside in his hurry to get to Austin.

"Aw, not again…" said Shane, before rising and following the hunter through his path of destruction.

__

To Be Continued…

Back to Fan Fiction... 


	2. Sheriff McMahon - Part Two

**__**

Sheriff McMahon-Part Two

"Aw, not again," said Shane, before rising and following the hunter trough his path of destruction.

At the bar, Austin, was watching Johnson's progress across the room through the mirror behind Manny's head, a little smile on his face, which was almost respect for his younger rival. _He still deserves on ass whooping though, _thought Austin. He turned around to face the raging hunter, his eyes wide end nostrils flaring, his handsome features contorted with rage.

Shane almost flew across the room, tying to get between them, when he spotted one of his deputy's lounging against the bar, further down from where Austin stood.

"Michaels! Michaels, get your ass in gear!" screamed Shane at the deputy, who was engrossed in conversation with one of the bar girls. He locked around at Shane, and ten followed his furious pointing to where Austin stood awaiting Johnson's charge. All this happened in a matter of seconds, and the deputy acted almost too late. He dived towards Austin a split second before Johnson did. All three collided in an untidy heap, with Michaels sandwiched between the two furious bounty hunters.

Shane ran towards the tangle of bodies writhing on the floor, and attempted to drag Johnson away, an act not unlike trying to drag a bull by its horns. Shane wrapped his muscular arms around Johnson's (equally muscular) neck.

"Dwayne, listen to me. You better calm down or you're going to have one hell of a headache when you wake up!" screamed Shane in the hunter's ear. Johnson flailed his arms wildly as his air supply was cut off. Shane glanced over to where his deputy, Manny and tree other regulars were sat on Austin, tying to hold him down. Shane let his hold on Johnson relax slightly as he watched Austin, still surging and bucking under the weight of five people. He turned his attention back to his own quarry, whose struggles had weakened.

"Dwayne, I'm gonna let you go now, and you are going to walk right out of that door. You hear me?" said Shane into Johnson's ear.

Shane let go slowly. The minute he was free, Johnson jumped off the floor, flinging Shane backwards and barreling towards Austin.

Shane landed on his back. He stared up at the ceiling, tying to focus his vision. _One day I'm going to kill both those assholes. _

He staggered to his feet and walked unsteadily to where Austin and Johnson were brawling with each other, and half the bar. Michaels was fighting desperately to get out of the melee.

"I've had enough, that is it!" shouted Shane to no one in particular and everyone in general. "I'm going to shoot them both." He drew his gun, and fired a single shot at the ceiling. Once again, everyone in the saloon ceased activity, including the two enraged bounty hunters, who looked up from where they were fighting on the floor, to see Shane pointing his gun in their direction.

"I'm going to end this feud right now." the Sheriff declared, a look of madness his eyes. The hunters looked at each other and then back at Shane. Michaels took advantage of the lull to grab hold of Austin and pull him to his feet, as several others did the same to Johnson, and held them away from each other.

Shane placed his gun back in its well oiled holster, and looked at the two hunters, still struggling against their captors.

What the hell is wrong with you two?" Shane said quietly. "Did you listen to a word I said? Either of you?"

"That goddamn son of a bitch-" began Johnson.

"Who? Me? You're damn right I am," replied Austin. "And you can bet your ass that I am gonna get you, you little bastard!"

"Yeah, you try it Austin, and I'll take my gun and stick it straight up your ass!" "Guys..." said Shane, wearily.

"After I've killed you, I'm gonna spit on your grave, you arrogant little shit!" bellowed Austin. Johnson struggled a little harder.

"Hey!" shouted Shane. "Enough!"

"Shane you better tell him to stay outta my way...' warned Johnson.

"I'm telling both of you-" The Sheriff stopped, looking at Austin's face. The hunter was grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh, you think this is funny, asshole?' Shane asked.

Austin started laughing out loud. "I'm sorry, I've just...just…" he was laughing so hard now he couldn't finish his sentence.

Shane looked over to Johnson in disbelief. He too was beginning to laugh.

"Have you two gone crazy all of a sudden? Look at the state of yourselves, and you're...you're laughing?"

"The hunters looked at each other. Both were drenched in beer that had toppled off the bar, and both were bleeding in several places; Austin's eye was beginning to swell and one of Johnson's lips was split wide open. Looking at their various states of disarray made the hunters laugh even louder at how ludicrous the situation was.

'Well this is just great,' Shane said in exasperation. "Get them outta here."

Michaels directed several of the clientele to kick Austin and Johnson out of the saloon - from separate exits.

Once they were gone, and the saloon had gone back to some semblance of 'normal', Michaels sauntered over to where the Sheriff had slumped into a seat at the far end of the bar. "Wooh, I thought we were in trouble there!" said Michaels.

Shane turned to his deputy slowly, anger building slowly on his features.

"What the hell were you doing, Shawn? Those two almost killed each other! I told you last night to make sure that Austin and Johnson stayed out of here, and what do you do? Let them both just waltz back in here to raise hell once again.'

"Well...I was occupied at the time." Said the deputy with a grin, winking at the girl behind the bar. She returned the wink with a sultry smile.

"Oh! Oh I see, that's alright then." Shane said with a grin. Shawn twisted uncomfortably in his chair. "When I have to tell their mothers that they killed each other, I'll just say, 'sorry ma'am nothing I could do about it...my deputy was trying to get laid at the time.' Ok, Shawn?'

"Sorry, Shane, but I really didn't think they'd try anything again. Not after last night."

"They are too god damn stubborn and hot tempered to let it rest - you know that. Look Shawn, I need you're full concentration on the job at the moment, ok?'

The deputy was engrossed in the showgirls dancing at the other end of the saloon.

"Shawn, are you even listening to me? Shawn!" the Sheriff shouted.

The deputy spun around. "What? Who? Yes, yes, I'm listening, I am...what was the question?"

"Oh for Christ's sake...that warrant that came through yesterday, for this guy, they call him The Undertaker? Remember?"

"Yeah! Yeah, there was this guy who rode in yesterday... shit, I meant to tell you, but I forgot what with the fight and everything, and then I met this girl...'

Shane sighed. Forgot to tell me what, Shawn?"

"This guy rode in from Tularosa yesterday, says he saw this guy, and he knows him." 

"Knows him? What do you mean, knows him'?' asked Shane.

"Knows who The Undertaker is.'

"Nobody knows who he is. No one who ever saw him lived to tell about it."

"Well this guy does. Say's his name is Mark Calloway," Said the deputy. "Calloway? Don't I know that name?' asked Shane.

"Damn right you do. Austin brought him in two years ago, for killing that preacher down in Texas."

'Shit. That guy. Christ, I should've known. There was something about him... .I mean, I only saw him for a minute when Austin came through here with him, I didn't even talk to him, but there was something. ...something cold about him... it was like he was dead." The sheriff shivered involuntarily.

'Remember what happened when Austin brought him through here? said Michaels with a grim smile.

Yeah...all those good Christian folks around here decided they wanted to string him up right there and then. Caused a hell of a riot."

"Exactly. Imagine what's gonna happen this time around.' Replied the deputy. Shane looked up, imagining the grim scene. Then another memory of the incident struck him. "Hey, wasn't he also the guy—"

'That Austin and Johnson first fought over." Cut in the deputy. "Yeah. That's where this rivalry of theirs started. Only reason Austin got to him first was because Johnson's horse broke its leg. And he still didn't give up even then." Shawn said, smiling. 'He tracked Austin half way across the damn country-'

'Until he came through here and I made him stay." Shane said with a sigh.

"Exactly."

"Shawn, this is precisely the reason we have to keep this quiet What about this guy who told you? Who was he?"

"I dunno, I've never seen him before. He rode in here, came to the Fortuna and sat down at the bar right there beside me. It was weird."

"What was?"

"Well, he just started talking. No introductions, no how do you do, he just sat there and talked about Calloway, as if his sole purpose in coming was to tell me about him. Then he left."

"Left the bar?"

'Left town, rode in and out, just like that"

"That is strange. What did he look like?" Shane asked.

"Kinda oldish, but he looked younger than he was, y'know?"

'No," replied the sheriff, confused.

"He musta been mid-fifties. I didn't see much of his face; he kept his hat on the whole time. Had a funny chin."

'What do you mean, funny? You're a lawman for Christ's sake, you're supposed to remember faces, give accurate descriptions?" Shane said, exasperated.

"He was only in for a minute," Shawn replied, guiltily.

"Well, as long as he's gone..." Shane looked down at the bar. It was stained with old blood and even older beer from the numerous fights that had occurred over the years.

'We're going to get him for good this time, Michaels. That bastard is not getting into my town."

"Yeah, we got enough with those two crazy assholes trying to wreck the place," said the deputy with a grin.

"Hmmf," Said Shane. 'Well I may have taken care of that particular problem..." he told his deputy about his plan.

"So they both think they are staying to keep everyone else here, keep an eye on the town-"

'And each other," said Shane with a devious look in his eyes.

'Good, good plan, I like it…will it work?' Shawn said, doubtfully

"01 course it will work." Came the sheriff's confidant reply. "Ifs _my _plan.'

"Er...well, as long as you're happy with it"

"Look, don't you have something better to do than sit here and bother me? Why don't you go and look after the town like you're supposed to, huh?'

"Fine. I'm going." The deputy walked away, muttering under his breath.

Shane watched him go with a grimace, wondering why he had ever deputized Michaels; he hoped that when it came to the showdown he was going to be on form. ...else Calloway would eat him for breakfast

The sheriff thoughts turned to the mysterious figure that had rode in to town, seemingly just to let them know who The Undertaker was. What the hell was all that about? Shane sat brooding miserably, and was so lost in thought he didn't even turn around as the double doors of the saloon opened and admitted another stranger. However this new face was somewhat softer than the regular clientele. As the woman made her way towards the bar, heads turned and eyes followed, taking in the sight before them. Her clothes were new and of good quality; her long blond hair held up in the latest fashion. She carried with her an air of complete confidence and sophistication; so out of place in the rowdy saloon that the people within couldn't help but notice.

Manny looked her up and down as she approached him he could barely believe that there was a woman in his saloon who wasn't a showgirl or a whore. The woman placed both hands on the bar top, and as Manny looked into her clear blue eyes, he felt as if there was something familiar about her; something he couldn't quite place.

'Whiskey, straight." She said.

"Er, ma'am, this is really no place for a lady such as your self," Manny said, his voice becoming unsteady under her steady gaze. However, he had already seen the leers she was getting from several of his customers.

'I appreciate your concern, but don't worry about me. I can take care of yourself" She opened her purse, taking out several bills.

"Whiskey, please." Her tone left no room for argument, and Manny reluctantly nodded and poured her drink.

She swallowed it in one mouthful, and smiled at Manny as she gestured for her glass to be refilled. Manny obliged her, shocked, but happy that he was' going to profit from his enigmatic customer. He watched her, entranced, as she gazed around the room, clearly looking for someone.

'Ma'am, if I may ask, what is a lady like you doing in a place like this?'

"I'm looking for my brother. I was told he might be in here.' She replied, smiling warmly. 'I'm in town with a theatre company; I'm an actress.' '~

Manny laughed. "A theatre company? In this town? That's a first..." he said.

'We're just passing through on our way to Chicago." She replied.

'Who is your brother, I might know him." Manny inquired, curious as to whom this beautiful woman could be related to in Deadwood.

"It doesn't matter, he's not here...' she replied distractedly as she looked around the saloon once again; she noticed that many of the men, if not all of them were looking at her – some with curiosity, some with something else she didn't even want to think about. She cursed her looks at times like these; she hated men staring at her like a piece of meat. _If I wanted to be leered at, I'd be kicking my legs up like one of those tarts, _ she thought to herself, glancing at the showgirls on the stage as she sipped her whiskey. Her eyes wandered along the bar – and stopped as they rested on the one man who was not looking at her. Had not even noticed her by the looks of it. Despite herself, she frowned for a second, wondering what was so different about him, before seeing it for herself. Unlike many of the others in the bar, he was clean shaven. His black hair was short and clean, his clothes tidy and washed. In short he did not look like the disreputable scum usually seen in this part of the world. She watched entranced as he, obviously deep in thought, traced the grooves and scratches on the bar top with his fingertips. She watched as he breathed in deeply and let out a long sigh before putting his elbows n the bar top and resting his face in his hands. She was amazed to find her heart aching for him; she wondered what possibly could have happened to leave him so depressed, so worn out. She wanted to go to him, ask him what was wrong and was contemplating just that when a tall figure stepped in front of her, blocking her view.

She looked up to see a man fitting her exact description of what she would call 'disreptable scum'. He leered down at her, grinning with blackened dirty teeth.

"Hello there," he said, and she felt his foul breath upon her face. She gave a tiny smile, and turned away quickly, hoping he would take the hint, and she wouldn't have to deal with him. _No such luck,_ she thought as she felt his hand on her shoulder. Without turning to look at him she said, "Look, I would appreciate it if you could leave me alone, if you don't mind."

"But I do mind. I can't leave a pretty lady such as yourself all alone now, can I?" came the reply close to her ear. She shuddered in revulsion, and threw his hand off her shoulder with one hand, while delving into her purse with the other, a point which escaped her would be romancer. He grabbed hold of her arm and swung her around to face him. The look of fear that he had expected to see on her face was not there; instead was a look of pure anger and aggression. She brought her knee up to connect squarely with his crotch, and he let out an anguished squeak before folding to the floor. 

The woman looked down at the agonized form at her feet with satisfaction, the small gun she had drawn from her purse aimed at his head, ready to shoot in the unlikely event he should recover quickly. She jumped as she felt another arm on her shoulder, and swung around gun raised, only to find her self face to face with the mysterious figure she had been staring at only moments ago. She had not been able to see his eyes before, but now she stared into the dark brown depths and almost lost herself completely. The depression she had seen on his face before was gone, but the weariness she could still see. She almost didn't notice that he was talking to her.

"I think it's time you left, ma'am," he said, gently taking her upper arm in one hand and relieving her of her gun with his other.

She let it go without arguing, still entranced by this man. For the first time she noticed the sheriff's badge, and mentally shook herself, as she let him lead her to the saloon doors. People stared as they walked across the room, still amazed at what they had seen this night.

Shane led her out into the street, wondering what the hell else could happen. He didn't think he could cope with any more drama; first the two hunters, and then this little scene. He couldn't believe what had happened; this woman had incapacitated one of the most ruthless characters in Deadwood with one swift move; not to mention the fact that she was possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever met – and evidently one of the most dangerous. He stared at her curiously, and wondered what the hell she could be doing here in Deadwood.

"Do you have somewhere to stay ma'am?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. He felt ridiculous being this affected by a woman whose name he didn't even know.

"Yes, my company is staying at a hotel in town." Her voice was soft and melodious.

"Your company?" the sheriff asked.

"Theatre company," the woman explained. "I'm an actress." She smiled, and the sheriff stared, intoxicated. She _was_ the most beautiful woman he had ever met.

"We're just passing through on our way to Chicago – I was looking for my brother in there," she explained, indicating the saloon. She stared back at him, and Shane wondered if perhaps she was mesmerizing him on purpose.

"Well, I'm the sheriff of Deadwood, I know just about everyone in town, I can help you…" he trailed off, realizing he was rambling; but with her staring at him, he had lost all rational train of thought.

"No, it's not important. I'll let you get back to your work; I'm sure the town keeps you busy," she said ruefully, with a glance at The Fortuna. "Thank you for your help." She held out her hand and Shane took it gently into his.

"Well, thank you for the entertainment. It's not everyday someone gets the drop on that idiot." The sheriff said with a smile.

She smiled back at him, and once again, he was lost. She turned to walk away and he searched for something to say to her, to make this meeting last a little longer.

"Can I you tell me your name? Next time I'm in Chicago I could catch one of your shows," he said, a blush growing on his cheek.

" You won't have to. We're doing one show at The Merchant Hotel tomorrow night," she called back. "I'll look forward to seeing you there." And with that, she was gone, as she entered the hotel across the street. Shane stood and stared for a while, wondering if she may have been a figment of his imagination. He wandered back to the jailhouse almost in a daze. She hadn't told him her name, or who her brother was. He entered the small building that served as the town lock up to find Michaels sat at his desk. The deputy looked up at him.

"What the hell happened to you?" he said, noting the dazed look in the Sheriff's eyes.

Shane considered telling his deputy about the mysterious woman, and then thought better of it.

"Let's just say that if I never have another night like tonight, I'll die a happy man."

"Why? What happened? Not those two again!"

"No…not those two," Shane said, thinking ruefully about the way her eyes had lit up when she smiled at him. _Something much worse, _he thought. _I think I've fallen in love._

Michaels watched his sheriff as he stared in to space, and shook his head. Sometimes he would swear his boss was crazy.

* * *

**__**

Outside the town, up in the foothills, a tall figure stood looking down at the lights that shone from the main street.

Another figure shorter, older, walked to his side.

"Soon." The smaller figure said, quietly.

The tall man, almost a giant, didn't reply. He just stared out at the town with his steady gaze.

"They will come out to stop us. The sheriff…leave him to me. He is not to be harmed. The rest, you can deal with."

The giant looked at his companion, and then returned his gaze to the town.

The other smiled and went back to their small makeshift camp. While the silent monster stood guard, barely moving, he slept. He dreamed his nightly dreams that had haunted him for years…dreams of flames and blood, and the screams of the innocent.

To Be Continued…


	3. Sheriff McMahon - Part Three

**__**

Sheriff McMahon – Part Three

The sheriff woke, feeling anxious. His dreams had been unsettling; dreams of bloodshed and violence. He shook his head to clear the morning cobwebs, and thought of the previous night's occurrences. Try as he might, he could not rid his mind of the mysterious woman he had met in The Fortuna. She was so beautiful, and yet seemed so dangerous to him; dangerous because she was distracting him from more pressing problems. There was also the problem of the two warring hunters to contend with; he felt confident that his plan to keep them both in Deadwood while he searched for the vicious and deadly Undertaker, would succeed but he still felt the anxiety of them running the town while he was gone.

He washed and shaved quickly, and stepped outside to complete his morning round of the main street; time to assess the damage of the previous night's frivolities. Of course, frivolities in this town usually consisted of windows being smashed, and fights breaking out in the street. Usually the street was awash with activity, people bustling about, completing their daily chores, shopping for their daily needs, and the heavy drinkers were generally already in the saloons. However, on this morning, the town seemed subdued, as if a dark cloud had settled on the minds of everyone who lived in Deadwood, obliterating the atmosphere, making the town dull and dismal. Shane looked about him, and dismissed it as his imagination, brought on by his own bad mood. But he couldn't help notice that the people trudged rather than walked, that instead of greeting each other in the street, they would just nod stiffly, and continue on their way.

The sheriff walked into the jailhouse to find his deputy waiting for him. Michaels was, for once, actually doing some work, reading through the various wanted reports and telegrams that had come in that morning.

"Anything new?" asked Shane, not really thinking about his question. His mind was on the actress who had appeared out of nowhere and taken down one of the most feared hunters in Deadwood with one swift knee.

"Oh, just the usual. Bank robber up in Arizona said to be heading this way. Nothing exciting." The deputy looked up at his sheriff. He couldn't help but feel there was something different about his demeanour; he had noticed it last night, and that same far away look was still in his eyes.

"He's still bothering you, isn't he,"

"What?" asked Shane, startled out of his reverie. "Who?"

"The Undertaker. Calloway." Michaels answered. "When are we leaving?"

" Tomorrow…we'll go tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow? Why not tonight?"

"I have other things to do." Answered Shane, although he was screaming at himself inside. Tomorrow could be too late, but your willing to risk it just so you can see some woman you don't even know?

"Like what? By tomorrow the guy could be here, he could have disappeared, hell, he could have passed us right by! What is wrong with you?" Shawn asked indignantly.

"Look, I said we are going tomorrow, and that is the end of it, ok?" Shane shouted at his deputy.

"Fine. But let me say this now Shane. I don't know what's come over you, but you have been walking around in a daze. And if this is your decision, then that's fine by be, but I hope to god it is a decision made with a clear mind, because this guy is a killer. And if there is something bothering you or distracting you then may god help you, because the only way we'll be able to get this guy is if you have a clear head. You understand me?" Shawn had stood up as he was talking, and walked towards the door. Shane sat in shock; it was the longest speech he had ever heard from his usually docile deputy.

"Whatever it is that's bothering you, sort it out, because we need you, Shane." And with that, Michaels left.

__

He's right, thought Shane_. I am distracted. Distracted by a woman who I've just met, and I don't even know her name. _ However, the realisation of this was not enough to deter him from the idea of going to see her show; he needed to see her again.

The day passed without further event, a fact that annoyed the Sheriff, as he would have welcomed any distraction at that point, just to take his mind of her. He went outside the small office for fresh air, but the wind was up and had unsettled the dust and muck from the street. The air was thick and hot and stifling. Stepping on to the wooden siding, Shane surveyed the street. Still too quiet for his tastes. 

It's as if they know he's coming, he thought to himself.

"And everyone's keeping well away from the storm about to come."

"They say talking to yourself is the first sign of madness," a soft voice whispered near him.

He jumped, and whirled around. There stood before him, was the beautiful actress he had not been able to stop thinking about all day long. Speechless he stood staring at her. She smiled slowly.

"I've come to reclaim my gun."

"What? What gun?" he asked, still hardly believing she was there. 

"The gun you took from me last night, I would like it back. A girl has to protect herself, you know."

"Oh…oh of course. Your gun." Shane raced inside, retrieved the item in question, and ran back out again. He handed over the firearm, suppressing a shiver as their fingers touched for the briefest of seconds. "Sorry." He said, feeling stupid.

"What for?"

"Erm…well for not giving it back to you last night."

"I thought it was customary for the sheriff to keep hold of all firearms as he saw fit?"

"Well…yes, but…" he stumbled over his words, feeling his cheeks redden. Why the hell was he acting like an idiot?

"Will you be coming to see the show tonight?"

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world." Shane smiled at her, pleased he had managed to get out at least one full sentence without sounding like an imbecile.

"Well, at least we'll have someone in the audience then. We were a little worried about the attendance." She returned his smile, and he actually felt his knees weaken. Oh good god…

"Oh…I shouldn't worry…I'm sure everyone will be there…" he replied, a little unsteadily. They would be mad to miss it, he thought.

"But I look forward to seeing you the most. Good day, sheriff." She turned away, and made her way down the street. He stared after her, and then smacked himself on the head. Once again, he hadn't found out her name. Dammit.

Well, if he had been uncertain before, he was damned certain now. He had to go to the show tonight; a whole league of lunatics on the run wouldn't have been enough to keep him away.

* * *

Later that evening, Joanna Ashton sat in her hotel room, thinking of her two meetings with the sheriff. Couldn't stop thinking about him, in fact. She wondered if he thought about her – if she had known that he had also spent the whole day thinking about her, perhaps she wouldn't have felt as nervous as she did. Why did she tell him about the show? She was terrified of performing in front of him…what if she forgot her lines? What if she tripped? He'd be watching the whole time, and she would never be able to face him again.

She couldn't get him out of her mind. There had been something intense about him, something deep and brooding. He was definitely too young for the responsibility that he held; she knew the type of person that roamed this town - after all, her brother was one of them - and knew how hard even one of them could be to handle, never mind a whole town full of bounty hunters. But she had a feeling that was not why he had been so depressed last night; there was something else he was worried about. 

She shook her head, as if shaking the thoughts of him from her mind, and stood up. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door of her hotel room, and stepped in to the dingy hallway. The Merchant was not exactly what you'd call classy; but compared to the rest of the hotels in town, it could almost be classed as hospitable. At least it was clean, and serves their purposes. The stage was big enough for their show, and the seating area held a fair capacity. But Joanna couldn't help feeling a little nervous; although their show had been received well in town's worse than this, it wasn't the same as most travelling shows were these days; no dancing girls, no pleasant love songs, and fancy dance routines. She still wasn't sure if Shakespeare and duelling violins would go down well here. Still, there was nothing she could do about that now. Heading down to the small area at the side of the stage, behind a makeshift curtain, she met up with her fellow performers. She peeked around the curtain, and saw a fair sized audience had built up; but no sign of her sheriff.

"Nervous?" as soft voice near her ear asked. She smiled as she recognised the voice of her co-thespian and mentor.

"As ever. Marshall, you did put the boards up, right? I want these people to know exactly what kind of a show we have."

Marshall Hampton had known Joanna for a long time, and recognised the anxiety in her voice. Pushing his ever unruly curly hair from his eyes, he replied, "Jo, don't worry so much. Nobody could ever fail to love you. You make the best Ophelia in America."

She smiled up at him. He was her best friend in the world, and he never failed to make her feel better when she needed it. "Well, it's only because I have the best Hamlet in the world. But let's face it, our audience is not exactly the most cultured of people."

"Well then, it shall be our job to bring culture to them, my dear," he replied in his well-spoken manner. The drum roll began, and the hotel manager addressed the crowd, introducing them. She wanted to check the crowd again, see if he was here, but there was no time. The show had begun.

* * *

Shane walked towards the Merchant's show room as slowly as possible, not wanting to look too eager. He almost overdid it, as he heard the manager of the Merchant announce the beginning of the show while he was still in the hotel lobby. He quickened his step, and walked into the large room, taking a seat at the back just as the actress was entering the stage with a tall good-looking man at her side, linked arm in arm. Shane felt a small twinge of jealousy. Both were dressed in fairly elaborate costumes from another time, and Shane thought that she looked even more beautiful than she had the night before.

The scene began, and the Sheriff watched with growing wonder as Ophelia professed her undying love to Hamlet, only to have it thrown back in her face. Both were powerful actors, and Shane was not the only member of the usually rowdy audience stunned in to silence. Her passion for the role was intense, and everyone present felt it radiating from the actress, as she poured her heart and soul into her performance. Shane managed to tear his eyes away from her to look for a sign or poster that may have her name on it, and in doing so, noticed a certain bald bounty hunter leaning casually against the wall, a small smile on his face, as he too watched entranced. Shane looked at him, barely believing he was here. Shane knew a lot about Steve Austin, but as far as he knew, the hunter's tastes in entertainment ran to beer and beating up people. He didn't even bother with the local whorehouses, never mind the theatre. And yet, there he was, watching engrossed.

Shane looked back to the stage, unable to keep his gaze away from her any longer; he'd have to find out her name after the show. The scene ended moments later, and as the two actors bowed to the audience, they received a standing ovation. Shane stood with the rest, clapping until his hands hurt. He stared at the now breathless but beaming actress, and for the briefest of seconds he thought that their eyes met, but then she turned away, and left the stage. As the show continued with a pair of violin players, Shane left his seat and wandered over to where his friend was stood.

"Damn good show, huh?" Shane asked with a grin. The hunter jumped in surprise, and a pained expression came over his face when he saw Shane's smile.

"I didn't know you liked the theatre, Steve. You should've told me, we could make it a regular thing."

"Shut up, McMahon. What the hell are you doing here anyway?"

Shane fumbled for a reply; there was no way he was going to admit to Austin that he had come here just to see a woman. 

"Well, I happen to like Shakespeare. What's your excuse?" Shane watched the hunter carefully, and saw him hesitate before answering.

"I came to see…well, someone in the show." Austin replied, slowly. Shane stared at the hunter, a growing suspicion welling up inside of him. He really didn't want to know who, but found himself asking anyway.

"Who…who exactly did you come to see?" the sheriff asked quietly, already knowing what the answer would be. The look on Austin's face as he had watched the opening scene had said it all, but Shane had been so engrossed himself he hadn't interpreted it as such.

Austin hesitated again, and reluctantly turned around, revealing a poster behind him that declared the Hampton Theatre Company was coming to Deadwood. Underneath the main title was a cast list, and sure enough, Austin pointed to the name next to Ophelia…Joanna Ashton. _So that's what her name is…not that it matters anymore._

"You…you know her well?" he asked his friend.

"You could say that," Austin replied, staring at the stage, the same small smile on his face. Shane felt as if he had been gutted. He tried to tell himself that it meant absolutely nothing, but couldn't help but realise the truth - not only was she obviously taken, but by his best friend. He raised a hand to his forehead, a headache on its way. He realised Austin was talking to him.

"She was great wasn't she? I love watching her on the stage; she never fails to amaze me." The hunter said, a proud smile on his face. Shane mumbled a reply, suddenly hating his friend of more than ten years. He was so envious of the hunter; the thought of them together almost made him feel ill.

"Shane? Shane are you all right? You don't look too good," Austin said, breaking into his thoughts again.

"Yeah. Yeah Steve, I'm fine." Shane replied, looking up at the hunter with burning eyes. If he couldn't have her himself, then he would make sure Austin wouldn't have her that night. "Look, we're going out to get that guy tonight, so do you think you could drag your ass away from here long enough to look after the town?"

"Tonight?"

"Yeah tonight. Sorry if I upset your plans and all."

"Shane are you sure you're ok? Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think you're up to facing this guy tonight. Maybe you should wait until morning."

Shane's anger and indignation had almost reached boiling point. "Steve, I'm going out there, tonight, with or without your co-operation. So get used to the idea."

Austin looked at his younger friend for a few moments before replying. "Alright Shane, if that's what you want. But I'm coming with you."

"The hell you are!"

"I'm not taking no for an answer, McMahon. I know I said I'd stay, but you need me. You need me with you."

"The hell I do! Austin, I need you to stay here, keep an eye on this rabble…" Shane tailed off as he realised what he was saying. If Austin stayed in town, he'd be here with Joanna. _But if he came with me…_

"Shane, I'm coming with you whether you like it or not."

Shane stared furiously, his thoughts fighting each other. His pride didn't want Austin with him; but the thought of Austin with Joanna was enough to override that.

"Alright Steve. Fine. But when we get out there, you listen to me, do what I tell you to, got it?" The hunter nodded his reply, and Shane knew full well that it meant nothing; Austin took orders from nobody. Still, he would be helpful; Austin wasn't the best hunter in the world for no reason.

"Meet me behind The Fortuna at midnight. And bring a torch." Shane said, before turning on his heel, and storming out of the room.

* * *

Shawn Michaels sat at the bar of The Fortuna in much the same position as his sheriff had the night before. He sat with his head in his hands, worrying. He thought about how strange Shane had acted the night before when he came in from the bar, and this morning's little episode. He wanted to put it down to the stress of having that lunatic, The Undertaker, just outside of town, waiting for the right time to ride in with his destruction, but the deputy's heart told him that it was something else that had brought upon this sudden change to his sheriff. 

Like the sheriff the night before, the deputy's thought's were broken into; however, whereas the sheriff had found himself confronting a beautiful woman, Shawn instead felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and a deep and decidedly masculine voice drawled into his thoughts.

"Well, deputy, it looks like you are not your usual cheery self tonight.." Micheals looked up at Johnson's careful grin, careful so as not to reopen his split lip, and groaned.

"Go away you crazy goddamn hunter. I'm not in the mood."

"I can see that. Mind if I join you?" The hunter sat down without waiting for a reply.

"So the question remains…what is wrong with Deadwoods finest?"

"Nothing. Don't you have someone else to annoy?"

The hunter ignored the question. "Sure there is, something's bothering you. Wait …let me guess: women trouble, right?" Micheals glared at the hunter, almost about to scream, when something sparked in his mind. A woman? Could that be what's wrong with Shane? 

"Well? Shawn, are you listening to me?" the hunter asked, puzzled at the strange look on the deputy's face. 

"Dwayne have you noticed how strange Shane has been today?"

"No, I havn't seen him. Why?"

"Never mind." Shawn mused – perhaps it was a woman, but Shane had been fine, if a little tense yesterday…whatever had happened to him, falling in love or not, it had happened after Shawn had left the bar last night.

"Maybe he's just worried about Calloway." Shawn said out loud, before realising his mistake.

"Calloway? As in Mark Calloway?" The hunter asked, eyes wide.

Oooops. Shit.

"No…erm…a different Calloway. Definitely not Mark." Shawn said hastily.

"Bullshit, Micheals! This guy, The Undertaker – He's Calloway, isn't he? Son of a _bitch_."

"Dwayne, wait a minute. You promised."

"Ah, to hell with that. I'm going to get that bastard this time, and I'll be damned if I don't." The hunter was flushed with excitement, and Shawn tried desperately to talk him out of it.

"Look, you're going to get the reward money whether you catch him or Shane does, why put yourself in danger?"

"I don't give a damn about that! It's not the money Shawn, it's the principle. To hell with this town, to hell with Austin, and to hell with you. I'm outta here. I got me a dead man to catch." The hunter was up out of his chair, and practically sprinting across the saloon before Shawn had time to react.

_Shane is going to kill me._ With that thought in mind, Shawn wondered what the hell he was going to do. Should he go with Johnson? The thought of the two of them against The Undertaker didn't exactly fill him with pleasure. Johnson was a wild card, team work was not in his repertoire. He imagined the "dead man" bearing down on him, gun in one hand, and knife in the other. So vivid was the image that when he felt a hand on his shoulder, the deputy squawked and jumped so high, he literally left his seat. He turned to see the one person, other than Calloway, that he really didn't want to bump into tonight.

"We're leaving. Now." Shane said.

"What?!? Now? You said tomorrow!" Michaels said, terrified. _He must know about Johnson, _Michaels thought irrationally._ Aw shit._

"I changed my mind. You were right, we need to get him now, tomorrow could be too late. Let's go." Michaels sighed, relieved. He didn't know. Then he realised that he could be walking into his doom, and tensed up. Also, there was the point that Johnson would also be out their roaming the hills…he thought about telling Shane, but saw the feverish look in his eyes and thought better of it.

Shawn set his features in a frown. "Alright, sheriff. Let's go."

* * *

Austin waited for the sheriff and his deputy behind The Fortuna, just as he had been instructed to do. He never really had any intentions of letting his young friend go charging off into the wilderness without some backup. Sure, Shane had Michaels with him, but, when it came to a good old-fashioned fight…Austin grimaced at the thought. Michaels would be no good to either of them in this situation. 

Suddenly, he tensed, hearing footsteps. The sheriff and his deputy rounded the corner both quietly leading their horses by the reins. He greeted the sheriff with a nod, and was shocked to see the look that Shane gave him – a look of undisguised pure hate. For the first time, he felt uneasy about this little adventure. There was something wrong with the sheriff, and he wanted to find out what the hell it was before they went anywhere. He was about to ask when Micheals spoke up.

"What the hell? Shane what is he doing here?"

"He," Shane practically spat the word out, "is coming with us. To help."

"What? Wait a minute…" 

"No arguments Shawn. He's coming with us." Shane glared at Austin with malice, and Austin mentally recoiled. _What the hell was going on here?_

"Shane…" he began hesitantly. "I don't think-"

"I know what you're going to say Austin, so save it. I don't give a damn what you think. We're going to get him now. Together."

Michaels stood aside of the two old friends. The atmosphere between them was so thick, it was almost suffocating; but it was all of Shane's doing. The deputy could see the confusion written all over Austin's face, and he had to admit; he didn't have a damned clue as to what was going on here either. Yesterday, these two had been friends – something had happened since to change at least Shane's view on that friendship.

"Er…guy's I think, if we're going we should go now."

"Sure. Shall we?" Shane asked Austin pleasantly, as if suggesting a ride to the local beauty spot, rather than a manhunt.

Austin nodded, still unsure of what to do with this situation. He settled for going along with it until he knew exactly what the hell was wrong with his friend. 

The three mounted up, and rode out of town without another word spoken between them, each lost in his own thoughts.

Shane thought about his words to Austin. He hated what he was doing, but he couldn't help it. Every time he looked at the hunter, he wanted to kill him, his envy was that strong. He glanced at him now, seeing that Austin also had a thoughtful look on his face as he rode along. He's probably thinking about her, he thought. And who wouldn't? He should be happy for his friend…but he couldn't find it in himself. He hated Austin, hated him for having what he couldn't have. 

The sheriff tried to concentrate on the task ahead as they neared the foothills. This was going to be dangerous. He had been in a gunfight before, and it was never pretty. People got hurt; people got killed. And if Austin gets caught in the cross fire, well…. Shane hurriedly pushed the thought away, horrified with himself. What the hell was he thinking? He rode his horse on faster, hoping that the further away he got from her, the easier it would be to forget about her.

As he rode, Austin searched the dark horizon, and after what seemed like an age, found what he was looking for. A tiny light, barely visible to anyone without a hunter's eyes, flicked in the distance. A campfire, up in the hills. It had to be him, had to be.

He looked to his left; saw the deputy, quiet for the first time in his life. He had known Michaels a long time, almost as long as he had know Shane, and he had never seen the man look so troubled as he did now. Shawn was as laid back as they came; Austin had often joked that if the deputy were any more relaxed, he'd be dead. But now, even his expression was tense. He guessed it was the same reason he himself felt uneasy – Shane's strange mood. Well, he was determined to find out what the hell was going on with that before they got anywhere near their prey. He thought back to their conversation in the theatre hall, just after Joanna had left the stage. Shane had been fine with him then; had been teasing him about watching the show, in fact. Then, all of a sudden, he changed.

"No, not all of a sudden. Something happened." He muttered to himself, all the time keeping his eyes on the flickering light that was steadily growing larger as they neared. What the hell did I say to him that pissed him off so much? They had been talking…about the show…about Joanna…

"Aw shit." Of course. He had seen it happen before; Joanna was the kind of woman to entrance any man, however long they had know her. Hell, it could have only been one brief meeting between them. 

That was it. It must be. As soon as I mentioned her Shane had started to act strange.

"Nothing like a woman to throw a man's mind off more important business."

The ground began to rise, and just as they were entering the foothills, Austin pulled up his horse, and dismounted. Shane and the deputy brought their own charges to a halt, and circled back to where Austin was standing, glaring up at the sheriff.

"Something on your mind, Steve?" Shane asked, menacingly.

"Could ask you the same thing, Shane. Get off your horse."

Shane complied, and stalked over to where the hunter stood. They were only a couple of hand spans apart when he stopped.

"What's the matter Steve? Ready to yellow out?" 

"That's a hell of a thing for you to say to me, you son of a bitch."

"Oh really. Or is there something else back home you'd rather be getting back to. Is that what it is?"

"I knew it! I knew it was her! Oh she sure got you in a hurry, didn't she?" Steve said, furious and yet pleased he had finally got to the bottom of the mystery.

"Who her?" Michaels asked, confused.

Steve turned to look at the deputy, momentarily distracted. He had completely forgotten Michaels was there. Suddenly pain exploded in the side of his head, and he found himself lying on the ground, staring up at the stars. Shane stood over him, shaking his hand. The son of a bitch had hit him while he wasn't looking.

Shane looked down at his fallen foe, anger coursing through every pore. So Steve had finally realised what was eating him; good. It would make it much easier to hate him. Without warning, Steve was up off the ground and ploughed into Shane, knocking the wind out of him. Michaels watched the scene with growing horror, but unwilling to do anything to stop it. Steve knelt on the younger man's chest, pressing all his weight down in an attempt to stop Shane from fighting back, but still he squirmed, kicking his legs and flailing his arms at Austin's face and back.

"Now!" Austin shouted into Shane's face. "You tell me, you little shit, exactly what is going on with you and my sister?"

Shane's attempts to fight stopped instantly.

"What?" he squawked in a forced voice. With Austin's mass on top of him, he could hardly breathe, much less speak. 

"You heard me. Joanna is my sister, you stupid shit." He relaxed some of the weight from Shane's chest.

"Your…your sister?" Shane asked in disbelief.

"That's right. You thought me and her were…together, right?" The hunter said, standing up.

Shane nodded, feeling foolish. Steve reached out his hand to the younger man, and after a moments hesitation, Shane took it and allowed Austin to pull him to his feet.

He stared at the older man, and instantly saw the similarities. They both had the same piercing blue eyes, the same determined mouth. In fact they were so alike, he was amazed he had never seen it before. The only difference was that these features made Joanna beautiful; they made Steve look tough. 

Steve laughed at the disbelief on the younger man's face.

Shawn, who had watched and listened intently from the beginning, felt it was time someone explained exactly what the hell was going on.

"Who the hell is Joanna?" Shane had, until this point, managed to resist the overjoyed laughter that had been bubbling up inside him, but this was too much for him. He let out a huge guffaw, and doubled over, tears of laughter coursing down his face. He staggered towards Austin, who too was laughing.

"Hey," said the hunter through his laughter, " I don't know why your so happy…I didn't say I approved of you and my sister together," he continued, but his eyes said differently. He held out his hand to Shane, and the sheriff gladly accepted, pulling his friend over to embrace him. The held each other, still laughing.

Out of nowhere, a shot rang out. Shane felt the heavy punch of the bullet against his body, but felt no pain. In a grim moment of clarity, he looked in to the eyes of the man he still held. The hunter looked back at him, his icy blue eyes wide with shock. 

"Shane?" he asked, his face a mask of pain.

Slowly, Austin began to fall, his eyes watching Shane's all the time, clinging on to the sheriff's shirt, bringing him down with him. Shane leaned over his friend, setting him down carefully on the dusty floor. Bringing his hands out from under his friend, he saw by the light of the stars that they were red with blood, Austin's blood. 

"No…" he whispered hoarsely. 

Shane looked up to see two figures silently leaving the shelter of the small grove of trees where they had been hiding. 

Jesus…they were waiting for us. They knew we were coming.

They both had their guns already drawn; the fastest hands in the world wouldn't have been fast enough. He looked back at Austin, who was still conscious, but staring at the night sky, his hands a death grip on Shane's.

He looked back at the two silent figures, now stood before him like harbingers of death. The taller man was Calloway; there was no doubt of that. The coldness radiated from him like heat from a fire. The other was shorter, and older, and his eyes held a menacing quality that terrified Shane…but at the same time intrigued him. It was this one that spoke to him now, and his words shocked the sheriff of Deadwood even further.

"Shane…at last. I knew one day you would come back to me."

To Be Continued…


	4. Sheriff McMahon - Part Four

Sheriff McMahon 

Part Four

Shane stood up slowly, glancing nervously between Calloway and this other, older man.

"How do you know my name?" he asked quietly. Austin groaned at his feet, but Shane was powerless to do anything to help him.

The man replied in his thick deep voice. "That's not important right now. You!" he said, pointing to Michaels. "Go back to the town, and tell the people that we are coming. I want them to know that death is on its way."

Shawn glanced at Shane and then at Austin. Shane nodded for him to take the hunter with him. 

"I'm not leaving you here with them." The deputy whispered at his side. Shane was touched by his loyalty, but wanted them out of here. At least they'll only have me…

"Go." Shane said through gritted teeth, trying to steel himself against what was sure to come. "Steve needs help, you have to take him back," he said, although he wondered what this man's motives were. From what he had heard it was not at all like them to let someone go.

"Shane…that's him-" began the deputy.

"Go! Now, Shawn, get the hell out of here. I can look after my self."

He looked back at The Undertaker and his strange companion, leaving no more room for argument.

"How touching," the older man sneered. Shane's anger flared. They might kill him, but he was going to go down fighting. He set his handsome features in a determined frown. 

The man saw the change in the sheriff's expression. " No no…there will be none of that. You are to come with us. You will join us; you will be made to join us."

"The hell I will," Shane growled.

Michaels was meanwhile attempting to stand Austin up. "Can you ride, Steve?"

The hunter looked at him, grimacing in pain. "Yeah. Just help me up." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move; just at the side of the bushes, a tiny rustle. Michaels followed his gaze, and saw it too – only he knew what it was. He allowed himself a tiny smile; there was no way in hell he was leaving. Things were about to get interesting. He looked at where Shane was standing just a few feet away from the two mercenaries. The older man was still speaking.

"Yes…you will. You are fated to join me, Shane."

"Who the hell are you? What do you want with me?"

"My name is not important right now. All with be explained in time, Shane."

"My friends call me Shane. The rest call me sheriff – and you sure as hell are not my friend, you son of a bitch."

"No…I'm not your friend." The man sounded almost rueful. "I'm your father."

Shane was speechless. The man was as insane as he was evil, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"My father was Robert McMahon, and a good man."

"If that is what you choose to believe."

"Of course it is! It's true!" Shane replied, although the seeds of doubt were sown. What the hell is going on here?

Behind him, Michaels was labouring to put Steve on his feet; he could hear the grunts of pain coming from the hunter. Suddenly, he didn't want to be left alone with these two, there was something very wrong here.

"I tire of this. You will come with us, now." He turned to the giant, who throughout the whole scene had barely moved an inch. "Get him." The hulking mass moved towards him, his cat like footsteps barely making a sound on the dusty ground. His long black hair flowed around his gruesome face.  Shane steeled himself, preparing to lunge at the monster that stood before him. 

He never got the chance. A loud report rang out and the giant crumpled before him, hands grasping his chest as his life's blood flowed from between his fingers. As he fell, the look of shock on his face mirrored that of Austin's only a few moments before. Shane sun round, expecting to see Michaels with his gun still smoking, but the deputy was stood next to Austin horse, holding up the hunter. Michaels too was looking about wildly, and Shane looked back to the man on the floor, who was now quite dead. Suddenly remembering the other man, Shane looked up; but to no avail. As soon as the Undertaker had begun to fall, his companion had turned tail and fled, back into the shadows. Shane whirled around, trying to spot some movement that would give him away, but it was too late. He had disappeared as quietly as he had come.

"Shit!" the sheriff screamed in frustration. Although his target had been vanquished, he had a feeling that this other man was the one behind it, and something told him that he was more dangerous than Calloway could ever have been.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and almost jumped out of his skin.

"I always said I'd get him one day." Shane recognised the voice instantly, but turned anyway. Sure enough, Johnson stood before him, gun still in hand, and smirking smugly. He looked at the sheriff, then at the Undertaker, and back to the sheriff again.

Shane wanted to hug him and kill him at the same time.

"Did I…or did I not…expressly tell you to stay in town tonight?"

"Oh, stay in town? I thought you said get out of town. Sorry."

Shane smiled up at the hunter, for once glad that Johnson had not listened to him.  

"Huh," came a voice from behind them. "The way you came through those bushes it's a wonder they didn't see you a mile away, Johnson."

They turned to see Austin, still being supported by the deputy, smiling through his pain.

"Well, I expected more from you Austin, you stupid son of a bitch. Getting shot in the back…" Johnson walked towards his nemesis, and surprised all by gently placing an arm around Austin's shoulders, and helping Michaels to pitch him up on his horse. With difficulty, Austin placed his feet in the stirrups, and straightened with a grimace.

"Don't think this means I like you, Johnson. 'Cos it doesn't." he said, before walking his horse to the edge of the clearing.

The younger hunter smiled, and went to retrieve his own horse from where he had hidden it behind a thick grove of trees, as Michaels lashed the grim corpse over his own, not relishing the thought of having to ride all the way back into town with this monster so near him.

Shane and the deputy both mounted up, and joined Austin as they waited for Johnson. 

"Well, thank god that's over," said Michaels with a sigh.

"Nothing's over yet. I think that the one that got away could possibly make even more trouble than he did," answered Shane, indicating the corpse that was now slung over the deputy's horse.

"What the hell was all that about anyway?" asked Johnson, riding up to them. "Why would he think you're his son?"

"I'm damned if I know," answered Shane. "The guy was crazy." He turned to Steve.

"Are you sure you're ok to ride?" he asked him, concerned about the ever enlarging bloodstain in his lower back.

"Not if we sit around here all goddamn night," Austin muttered, grimacing. The bullet had hit him on the left side of his back; he didn't think it was deep, but it hurt like hell, and he was growing weaker by the second.

"Alright lets get the hell out of here." He scanned the area once more, hoping for some sign of the mysterious figure that had eluded his capture. But the hills were as silent as ever. Scowling, he jogged his horse forward, and they set off, back to Deadwood.

They rode back into town just as the dawn light was appearing over the hills. Austin barely made it. Shane leapt off his horse and was at his friend's side just in time to catch him as he fell from his own horse in exhaustion. 

"It's ok, Steve, we're going to get the doc for you. You're going to be fine."

The hunter looked up wearily. "Find Jo for me. Tell her what happened."

"You're going to be able to tell her yourself, Steve. Shawn, help me!" he called to his deputy, and between them, with Johnson in the rear, they carried the wounded hunter into the sheriff's office. 

"I'll go get the doctor," Dwayne said, and Shane could hear the concern in his voice; he had to suppress a small smile. He'd always said that if Austin and Johnson were not the worst of enemy's they'd be the best of friends.

The young hunter left the others to tend to Austin, who was now almost delirious.

"Shane…he doesn't look too good…" began the deputy. Shane silenced him with a fierce glance. He didn't need to hear this now. Steve reached out for his hand, and Shane clasped it, his palm slick with sweat from his fever.

"Come on Steve, hold on. You're going to be fine…" Shane said, but could hear the desperation in his voice. Austin had lost so much blood, and he could see the pain etched on to his friend's face. Where the hell was the doctor?

"Joanna?" the hunter asked feebly, his feverish eyes searching the room at random.

"I'll get her for you Steve, don't worry about that now."

The door opened, and Johnson entered, ushering in a very rumpled looking man; Shane guessed that the hunter had dragged him straight from bed. The doctor went straight to where they had laid Austin out on top of Shane's desk. 

"Ok, what do we have here? Can you turn him over for me?"

Shane did as the doctor told him, all the time struggling to remember his name…he had only just moved to the area a few weeks ago, and his stressed frame of mind, Shane could not for the life of him recall what the doctor's name was. He dismissed it, and tried to concentrate on his friend. The doctor was examining the hunter's wound; Shane just hoped to god he knew what to do.

"Doc, is he going to be ok?" Michaels asked, thinking exactly the same thing.

"Well, I can see the bullet; it's not very deep. But he's lost a lot of blood." The doctor delved deep into the black bag he had brought with him, and extracted a painful looking instrument, like a large pair of tweezers. 

"Hold him down please," he said matter of factly, and Shane took a deep breath as the doctor drove the tweezers deep into the hunter's wound. Even in his delirious state, Austin felt the pain and cried out loud as the doctor searched for the bullet. Shane glanced at his deputy and the look on his face mirrored his own, cringing as the doctor plunged deeper and deeper in his quest for the slug. Finally after what seemed like hours, and just as Shane was beginning to think he could not bear Austin's screams any longer, the doctor withdrew a smallish black ball from the depths of the wound. The hunter felt the departure of the bullet and his body relaxed, slumping into unconsciousness. Shane sighed with relief; this was not the first time he had seen such a painful extraction; surgery was done in such ways in Deadwood, but it never got any easier to watch.

The doctor continued to tend to the unconscious hunter, sewing up the wound, and placing a large gauze bandage around his mid section. Between them they carried Austin to a back room of the office where there was a small cot that Shane used sometimes.

"What now?" Shane asked anxiously.

"Now we wait, and hope an infection doesn't set in. His wound will need to be bathed regularly, and he'll need a lot of rest," replied the doctor, stretching, as he reached down for his bag. He headed towards the door. "That's if he even makes it through the rest of the day," he said before leaving.

Shane looked at the hunter; Shawn and Johnson were stood by Austin's bedside, watching his pained sleep. A thought occurred to the sheriff.

"Shawn, back then, you said 'it's him'. What did you mean?"

The deputy looked at Shane. "What? Oh…the older guy…that was who rode in here the other day, to tell me about Calloway." He said nonchalantly before looking back to the hunter.

"What? What the hell is going on here? Why would he do that?" 

"I don't know Shane…but you heard what he said." The deputy answered. "He said he wanted the town to know that death was coming."

"Yeah, well, he also said he was my father, so I'm not placing much on his sanity." Shane stared at the injured hunter, his face pinched with pain even in his sleep. _He's got to pull through,_ he told himself.

"I guess I better get Joanna," Shane said out loud, although he wasn't talking to anyone other than himself. 

"Who the hell is Joanna?" Johnson asked.

"Steve's sister," the sheriff replied, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. He was exhausted both physically and mentally; the night had been a roller coaster ride of emotion for him, and as much as he wanted to see her, he didn't want to have to tell her that her brother had been shot. Shawn looked up, but said nothing; from the conversation Shane and Austin had had before the shit had hit the fan, Shawn had pretty much figured out what was going on. Shane left the office with one last glance to his friend, and went out into the street.

Dwayne looked at the deputy questioningly. "Austin has a sister?"

*   *   *

Shane stalked down the street as the early morning light filtered down upon the desolate town. He was trying desperately to figure out how he was going to tell Joanna about her brother, when he came to the place where they had tethered their horses only an hour or so before hand. He stopped, staring at the mounts, trying to work out what was wrong. He shook his head, his mind whirling, and put it down to the stress of the situation. All he could think about was the fight he and Austin had the night before…if he hadn't been so stupid, he might have heard them coming…

Shane reached the door of the hotel, and with a deep breath, he went in. The lobby was deserted, and he realised belatedly that he had no idea what room she was in. The problem was solved for him, when the door opened behind him, and Joanna walked in, her long hair tied up, and wearing a riding jacket, her face still flushed from her early morning ride. She saw him and stopped; she began to smile, but then saw the look on his face, and her smile dropped.

"What's wrong?"

"Miss Ashton…" he began uncertainly, her gaze unsettling his thoughts just as it had on the first night they met.

"What's wrong?" she repeated, but with more intensity. "It's Steve, isn't it? Please tell me…" 

Shane could think of no easy way to tell her. "I'm afraid he's been shot." Shane continued to tell her of the previous nights events. He cringed as her lovely face crumpled, and she raised her hands to her mouth. He carried on quickly. "He's ok, the doctor has seen him, and he managed to remove the bullet. I think he's going to be ok." Joanna sighed with relief, but the tears still fell. Barely realising he was doing so, Shane went to her, and she clung to him as she sobbed. "I always knew…something like this would happen one day…" she said, tearfully, her head on Shane's shoulder. Shane strived to find the words to comfort her, but none came. She intoxicated him; she was so close, too close, and it took his breath away. He felt guilty thinking these things about his injured friend's sister at a time like this, but couldn't help it - he had to fight the urge to pull her head from his shoulder and kiss her. As if reading his thoughts, she lifted her head, and stared at him. The tears had softened the icy blue of her eyes, and once again, he found himself entranced. They moved together, and he felt her soft lips upon his. They kissed with an unjustified urgency, as if the world was to end any moment and this would be their only chance. Shane broke the kiss, his guilt consuming him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her eyes searching his face.

"This…this isn't right, I almost got your brother killed for Christ's sake!"

"No, it wasn't your fault. I don't blame you, and Steve won't either." Shane thought about this for a moment. He thought back to the fight he and Steve had had; if he hadn't been acting like such an asshole, they would never have let those bastards sneak up on them.

"Can you take me to him?" she asked, sensing the need for a change of subject.

"Yes, of course. He's in the jail house." She grinned, despite her worry. 

"Well, at least he'll feel at home."

They left the hotel, Shane taking her arm softly, and leading her down the street. Once again, he paused to look at the horses; and it struck him like a thunderbolt.                     __

The body was gone.

Mark Calloway's corpse was no longer slung over Michael's horse, where they had left it. The sheriff's first thought was that Johnson could have taken it to the jailhouse, but his instincts told him otherwise. Looking wildly around the streets for any sign of life, his gaze fell on Joanna.

"What is it? Shane, what's wrong?" she asked, seeing the worried look on his face.

"It's him…he's here, somewhere. Oh Christ."

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Jo, you can't go to Steve right now, it's not safe…we have to get off the street, now."

"No! I have to see him, Shane! I need to know he's alright!"

"Joanna, please, just listen to me! Look, the body is gone, and whoever took it is around here somewhere. If he sees you with me…" he didn't finish, not wanting to even consider the implications.

"But…" Joanna began to protest, but with no conviction. She was scared; and Shane could see it written all over her beautiful face.

"I'll take you back to your hotel; let's go, now."

They walked swiftly back the way they came, Shane searching every darkened corner and alleyway for potential threats. He was scared for himself, but he was terrified for her. He wouldn't be able to live with the guilt if she was harmed because of him, too.

Rushing through the door of the hotel, Shane checked the street once more for any sign of anything, but the street was still deserted, everyone sleeping off the hangover from the night before. As he walked her up the winding staircase, he thought grimly of Johnson's reaction to the missing corpse. He was going to be mightily pissed; with no body, there was no reward.

They reached her room, with Shane still checking over his shoulder; the silence was terrible for him, and every instinct he owned told him worse was to come. He was still looking down the corridor when Joanna screamed. 

Shane had his gun drawn in a flash, as he pushed past her into the room. On the bed, sat up in a mock imitation of life, was The Undertaker's corpse, the eyes open and staring straight at him. He stood in shock, and the implications dawned on him…whoever he was, The Undertaker's companion had already known that Joanna was Steve's sister. Joanna clung to Shane's arm, staring morbidly at the corpse on the bed.

"Ok, so I guess coming to your room was a bad idea."

A familiar voice behind him coincided with the feeling of cold steel being pressed to the back of his head.

"I guess it was, Shane. Drop the gun." 

To Be Continued…


	5. Sheriff McMahon - Part Five

Sheriff McMahon-Part Five

Shane turned around slowly, his arms raised, to look at the man behind him, barely believing what he was seeing.

"Johnson? What…?"

The hunter smiled. "Surprised, Sheriff?"

"Dwayne, what are you doing?" Shane asked, his voice barely above a whisper. This couldn't be happening…

"Let's just say I had a better offer than you could ever give me," the hunter said with a smirk.

"Money? Is that what this is about?"

"Of course. And getting one over on Austin after years of him holding me back."

Joanna gasped behind Shane, and he moved to stand between her and the hunter.

"Oh yes, the sister. We have plans for you too."

"You son of a bitch," Shane spat the words at the hunter. "You touch her and I'll kill you."

"Now now, Sheriff. Don't let heroics stand in the way of your good sense. I'm the one with the gun remember! So let's not have any stupidity. You're coming with me, either alive or dead. Choose."

"Alright, I'll come with you. But Joanna is staying here.."

"Sorry Sheriff, no can do."

"Why, Dwayne? Why are you doing this?" Shane asked desperately. He stopped as he felt a small prod from Joanna in his lower back. He started talking again, as he slowly, slowly moved one hand behind his back to take whatever it was she was handing him.

"Dwayne you don't have to do this."

"Oh, that's what I always admired about you Shane. You have your father's sense of decency. Or at least, you have Robert McMahon's sense of decency."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know Shane. It's been nagging at you all night hasn't it? You want to know why Vince thinks he's your father."

"Vince? You mean…"

"That's right. Vince McMahon. Robert McMahon's brother."

Shane felt Joanna press the gun into his hand – and let go. She prodded him in the back insistently, but he ignored it.

"No. My father's brother died a long time ago, even before I was born."

"Ooh, so close. But not quite Shane. The only way you'll ever find out is if you come to Vince now. Or maybe I should just kill you…" The hunter smiled thoughtfully, and  raised the gun, pointing directly at Shane's head.

"No! No…I'll come with you." The hunter smiled and lowered the gun a fraction.

"Shane! What are you doing?" Joanna whispered in his ear.

"I need to know, Joanna. I'm sorry."

Johnson gestured with his gun for them to get walking. Joanna and Shane stepped out of the room into the corridor, and the hunter closed the door, smirking one last time at the lifeless figure on the bed.

*   *   *

The hunter marched them down the street towards the outskirts of the town. An old warehouse stood apart from the others, long since abandoned after a fire a few years ago. A fire that Shane himself had helped put out, while standing alongside his so called friend, Dwayne Johnson. As if reading his mind, Johnson said, "Yep, that fire was one son of a bitch, wasn't it, Shane?"

Shane ignored the hunter. He was in no mood for small talk. Joanna walked beside him, her face a mask. He wished he could read her thoughts. Did she hate him for what he was doing? He pushed that thought aside; he needed to know what all this was about. His father,

(Was he? Was he my father?)

Robert had told him of his brother's death. One day while Vince was away, bandits attacked his house. Although his wife had put up a spirited defence, the outlaws had eventually gotten into the house, robbing it and killing her. Vince, unable to live with the guilt of not being there to save his beloved wife, had flung himself over a ravine. But the body had never been found, and a memorial plaque stood where his grave should have been, next to that of his wife. Shane recalled asking his fath… Robert if Vince had had any children.

"No son. They never had that chance." He had replied, patting Shane on the head. 

They never had that chance.

"What was that, Sheriff?" asked the hunter, and Shane realised he must have spoken aloud.

Shane glared at his former friend. "You are not going to get away with this, Dwayne."

"Oh really? Who is going to stop us? Your faithful deputy? I think not," the hunter replied with an evil laugh. Shane looked at him in horror. He had completely forgotten about Michaels. 

"Oh don't worry, Sheriff, your deputy is quite safe. He's still sat by Austin's bedside – well, lying by it anyway."

"What did you do to him, you bastard!"  Shane snarled.

The hunter merely laughed. "Nothing he won't recover from. You on the other hand – I'm afraid, you might not be so lucky." 

"And my brother?" Joanna said in a choked voice. 

"Still unconscious; I thought about putting the bastard out of his misery. But I figured I'd let him suffer a little longer." The hunter laughed at the look of pure hatred on her face. 

Joanna turned away, and continued walking, with Shane beside her. The hunter sauntered behind them. 

"He'll be alright, Jo," Shane said, taking her hand. She turned to him, and smiled, a glint in her eyes that was almost a feverish madness.

"He'll come anyway." She said. "As soon as he realises, he'll come. I know he will."

*   *   *

Vince sat in the barn, waiting. He had been waiting for so long, and now he would finally reveal himself to his son…his only son. Shane had only been a baby when he had handed him over to his brother…too young for him to remember. Maybe it had been for the best…but now it was time for him to know the truth. 

Vince stood up as the barn door opened. He was slightly surprised to see the woman with him, but knew instantly who she was. Calloway had been tracking her for some time, meaning to use her for his revenge against Austin. Vince repressed a chuckle – the monster had almost made it. No matter, Vince told himself; he'd make sure the hunter was dead before nightfall. He looked up at the smug grin on Johnson's face as he shoved Shane forwards. Make that both hunters.

"Get out of here, Johnson." The hunter raised a single eyebrow in protest. 

"Make sure your face is seen around town, I need you legal for a while yet." The only indication of the hunter's irritation was the slam of the barn door as he left. Vince sighed, and rubbed his brow wearily. 

"What do you want with me?" 

Vince looked up into the face of his son. Shane's eyes were blazing with a fire Vince knew only too well. The thought made him smile. 

"You are my son."

"And?" 

Shane's reply surprised Vince. "Ah, so you accept it now?"

Shane shrugged. "Doesn't make any difference to me."

Vince laughed, a harsh cackle that made Shane cringe inside. "Oh really. And why is that?" 

Quick as a flash, Shane brought out the gun from where Joanna had hidden it in the back of his belt and had it aimed at Vince's head in a matter of seconds. "Because either way, my father or not, you are under arrest you son of a bitch." 

*   *   *

The deputy opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't. The room span above him, and a multitude of colours washed in front of his eyes. He sat up slowly and gingerly felt the large lump on the back of his head. A blinding headache pounded through his head and he had to fight against the pain to think straight.

"Johnson."

Shawn turned his head towards the sound of the voice, wincing at the pain the sudden movement caused in his head. The icy blue eyes that stared back at him from the cot brought back the memories of the last couple of days. 

"No, Steve, it's me. It's Shawn. You're gonna be ok."

"No, you stupid son of a bitch," replied Austin with effort, the pain etched on his face. 

Shawn smiled despite the insult; it was amazing how Austin could be in so much pain and still manage to be offensive. 

"It was Johnson," 

The deputy stood up rather unsteadily, rubbing the back of his head. "What was?"

*   *   *

The hunter scowled at the morning sun. He'd played his part perfectly, and still Vince treated him like shit. 

"Leave him alone with his precious son," Johnson muttered to himself. "Why'd he even want that little maggot anyway?"

He'd wandered around for a good ten minutes now, and he was getting sick of it. No one was around anyway; even the goddamn saloons were closed.

"No rest for the wicked," he said, and grinned despite his annoyance. He had to admit; the plan had been a damn good one. Vince was a genius. What better way to catch Shane off guard? Kill the bad guy to stop him worrying about his precious town, and injure his friend, the courageous hunter, to keep him off the scent of the real bad guy. Johnson laughed out loud as he conjured up the image of Shane realising he'd been duped.

"Sure shocked the hell out of you, didn't I Shane-O?" 

The hunter looked up at the sun. After a quick glance at his watch, he turned around and began pacing up the main street once again.

*   *   *

Joanna watched the two men stare at each other, her eyes darting from one to the other. 

"Shane, we have to get out of here before he comes back," she said anxiously, looking towards the door.

"No. Not until this bastard explains a few things," the sheriff replied, never taking his eyes from Vince.

"There is nothing to explain." Vince replied calmly.

"The hell there isn't!" 

Joanna looked at the door once more, certain the hunter was going to come back any second.

"Shane, please, we have to go!"

The sheriff ignored her. "All my life I have been Robert McMahon's son. Why?" he asked, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. 

"My brother took you away from me while you were still a child, Shane. It's all his fault." Vince replied calmly. Shane stared at him, refusing to accept this new knowledge. Every inch of him shook with anger.

"Even if that is true, then he must have had good reason for it," Shane said. "He knew, just as I do now, that you are an evil, worthless son of a bitch. And you're going to jail."

Vince sighed mockingly. Looking down at his feet, he shook his head, and laughed. As he raised his eyes back to Shane, the sheriff could see the glint of anger and madness behind them. 

"I see Robert has brought you up to trust in the virtues of law and order, just as he did." Vince relied, still laughing. "You worthless fool. I should have known." The smile left the madman's lips. "But I thought I could make you see the value of lawlessness. Make you realise that it is people like me who run this world, not you."

Never taking his eyes from Vince, Shane reached to his belt and removed the handcuffs. "Joanna can you shoot?" he said. 

"Damn right," she replied, her voice now showing none of the fear she'd felt earlier; her anxiety over her brother had turned to anger. "I was taught by the best hunter in the world," she said defiantly, staring at Vince. 

Passing her the gun, Shane moved slowly towards Vince.

"Alright you bastard, put your hands behind your back."

"Shane, you won't win this way. You'll have to kill me." Vince declared, grinning at the sheriff. 

"Yeah? Tell that to the judge."

*     *     *

Johnson paced down the main street, humming quietly to himself, mulling over what he would do with all the money he had coming to him. Taking off his hat, he dusted it off and looked up at the sun, which was rising high into the morning sky. Holding it up in front of him to shade his eyes, the hunter looked towards the end of town and the hills beyond, looking for the telltale rising dust that would signal a horse or stagecoach arriving into town; he didn't really think anyone would turn up at this ungodly hour, but it was best to be sure. 

"Yep, that's why I'm the best," he said to himself, and laughed. As he stood laughing in the middle of the street, he heard a shot rang out from behind him. His hat was blown from his hand and fell to the floor ten feet away. He watched it roll away in the morning breeze, half in tatters from the force of the bullet, and felt the colour drain from his face, just as the smile fell from his lips. Only one person he knew could have made that shot on purpose. 

"I'd never shoot you in the back, Johnson," came a voice from behind him. "And you always did have god awful taste in headwear." Ever so slowly, Johnson turned to face the figure behind him, his hands poised at his waist. Austin stood in the middle of the street, hands at his sides, the pain of standing upright adding a grim look to his weather face. To Johnson it was like looking into the face of death itself.

"Alright you bald headed bastard," Johnson snarled, the anger and fear contorting his usually handsome features into a mask of evil. "Let's see how good you really are."

The two hunters stood facing each other for what seemed to both like an age, each waiting for the other to give a sign of being about to draw. 

The wind picked up, blowing the dust of the street into whirlwinds of activity. 

Somewhere at the back of town, a cock crowed, a high pitched squeal that sounded like a creature in anguish. Johnson jumped at the sudden noise in the otherwise silent street. So quick it was almost impossible to see, Austin drew his gun, barely raising it from his hip, and fired three times before Johnson even had time to draw. Falling to his knees, the hunter looked down at his wounds in amazement. Blood poured from the three holes in his chest and from his mouth.

Austin staggered forward to where his nemesis had fallen, and looked down. 

"You were good kid." He said to the dying hunter. "Just not good enough, is all." Without waiting for a reply, he fired once more, shooting Johnson in the dead centre of his forehead. A sense of loss filled Austin as he fell to one knee, unable to support himself any longer.

"I wanted you to fill my shoes, kid. I wanted you to be the best."

*     *     *

Shane heard the gun shots and flinched. It was all the distraction Vince needed. The knife appeared seemingly from nowhere as he brought it up to Shane's neck. The sheriff stood stock still as Vince circled him, keeping the knife to his son's neck, watching the gun that Joanne still held pointed at him. 

"Are you sure you're that good, sweetheart?" Vince said, smiling as he stood behind Shane. "Go ahead, take a shot." 

Joanna stood, both hands holding the gun in an attempt to steady it at Vince. Tears coursed down her face unnoticed.  

"Let him go," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. 

"No, I don't think I will."  Vince relied, the sarcasm plain in his tone. "And what are you going to do if I don't? Shoot me?"

"If I have to." 

"Joanna, go. Save yourself." Shane said calmly, despite the cold blade pressed tight against his throat, so tight that he could already feel little trickles of blood mingling with the sweat on his neck, and pouring down his chest. 

"Oh! Such heroics, such bravery!" Vince said mockingly. "What should the heroine do? Run to fight another day? Or risk shooting her beloved to get the bad guy?"

Joanna looked from Vince to Shane; the sheriffs eyes pleading with her to go, Vince's mockingly asking her to stay. Her conscience would not let her leave Shane alone, and although she'd made harder shots before, she knew that Vince could slit Shane's throat even if she did hit the madman. 

Seeing her indecision, Vince laughed. "Or maybe she should just stand there and whimper?" Vince whispered into Shane's ear. He looked back at Joanna, and frowned as he saw her expression change. She smiled at him, squared her shoulders, and cocked the gun. 

"How about I just stand here and watch you die?" she said, and squeezed the trigger of the gun. For a moment after the shot rang out, the three of them stood breathless. Slowly Vince lowered the knife and laughed. Stepping back from Shane he looked down at the spreading blood in the middle of his chest. Before he fell, he looked up at Joanna in awe. 

Shane stood staring at his father, his real father, for awhile, trying to comprehend what had just happened; it appeared the bullet that Jo had fired had gone right through him into Vince. He was about to search his own chest for a wound when he saw the figure standing behind Vince at the other end of the barn. 

Shawn stood, still holding his smoking gun with both hands, behind Vince's prone figure.

"Told ya I could shoot," he said, his voice shaking.

"That you can, Michaels, " said Shane, smiling weakly. "That you can."

*     *     *

The knock at the door was not totally unexpected, but Shane was still surprised when he saw who it was.

"Dr.Rowe? What is it? Is Austin alright?"

The doctor nodded as he shut the door behind him. "Yes, I think your friend is going to be just fine. He's a fighter. But that's not what I came here for," he said, and held out an envelope.

Shane took the letter from the doctor; it was addressed to him, in his father, or rather Robert McMahon's handwriting.

"Robert asked me to give this to you at the right time," said the doctor. "I guess this is as good a time as any."

Shane didn't even notice the doctor leave as he ripped open the letter and began to read.

Shane, 

            You may receive this letter many years after my death; it is my hope that it will come to you at a time of peace; although if the good doctor has sent this letter on to you, the chance is that you already know much of the truth. 

            Vincent McMahon, my brother, was a good man. He and your mother spent many happy years together, running a farm just outside of Deadwood.  When his wife, Mary, was killed by bandits as she travelled away from town, the grief he felt after her death sent him half mad.  He spent much of  his time trying to avenge her death, travelling to the nearby towns, looking for her murderers. After some time, he became unable to distinguish between those who were guilty and those who were not; driven by his despair over  being unable to avenge your mother's death. He became a ruthless killer, ranging the west, until he was hunted himself and forced to disappear. I took you under my roof as my own son, hoping to raise you well, away from the unlawfulness that was to be your legacy. Your father once blamed me for taking away what was left of his family; please forgive me and understand I just wanted the best for you.

Robert.

Shane's tears dripped onto the old paper, but he did not feel them. All he could think of was his father, his real father; driven by grief to destroy all good he held inside him. The sheriff stepped outside onto his small porch, and looked down the main street of Deadwood. 

What was he to do now? His father was dead and buried, and one of his best friends had turned on him for money, and had been killed. Leaning his hands on the railing, his tears fell uninhibited to the ground, turning the dust a dark rusty colour. Where was he supposed to go from here?

A rustling noise behind him made him turn suddenly, drawing his gun. There in front of his house, stood Joanna, her eyes sparkling in the starlight. 

"Hey there," she said uncertainly.

"How's Steve?" Shane asked, trying to hold back his tears.

"He's ok; he's going to pull through," she said, moving towards him. As she reached out to him, taking Shane into her arms, he collapsed against her, sobbing onto her shoulder, letting go of his responsibility, holding her as tightly as he could.

Looking up at Joanna with weary tear stained eyes, he said, "Here. Right here is where I belong."

"Yes. You're needed here." She replied, stroking his hair.

"But I can't do it alone," the sheriff said, smiling up at her.

"You won't have to."

THE END


End file.
